


Somebody Else

by potooyoutoo



Series: Jedi Advisor AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Communication Failure, Dubious Consent, Emotionally Repressed Fools, Frenemies, M/M, Politicians, Pre-Relationship, but not with the main ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potooyoutoo/pseuds/potooyoutoo
Summary: 71 BBY - Walon and Kal are assigned to accompany Askar Wren to a Senate gala, ostensibly as his bodyguards. However, Walon receives an additional assignment which leaves both young men struggling with emotions they’re not sure they can face just yet.
Relationships: Kal Skirata/Walon Vau
Series: Jedi Advisor AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643533
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Somebody Else

**Author's Note:**

> First off, a hundred thousand thank yous to the wondrous [CasualThursday](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualThursday/pseuds/CasualThursday) for being an amazing editor, co-plotter, and overall good sport about my ridiculous obsession with these fools.
> 
> Second, there's quite a bit of Mando'a in this, most of which was enabled by the fantastic [mandoa.org](http://mandoa.org/) which is an amazing resource for anyone interested in cool made up languages.
> 
> Lastly, for some context, this fic is part of a wider AU in which the True Mandalorians made an alliance with the Galactic Republic which included having a chosen Jedi Advisor appointed to work with the Mand’alor. Not a lot of that actually impacts this fic, but the timeline for the AU overall does affect certain character ages and whatnot.

As soon as Skirata walked into the room, Walon let out a short bark of laughter, earning a disgruntled growl from Mird who did not appreciate any distractions from the head scritches it had been receiving. “Oh no. You are absolutely not wearing that to a Senate gala.”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s nice and I can fit at least some armor underneath.” Skirata was glaring and Walon could tell he was doing his best to keep his discomfort well hidden behind his usual grumpy attitude towards anything remotely associated with outward signs of wealth.

Whispering a few soothing words to Mird, Walon unfolded himself from the couch, prowling across the room so he could loom over Skirata in that particular way that made the other man livid. Crossing one arm over his chest and gesturing disdainfully at Skirata’s attire, Walon drawled, “If you show up wearing that, the waitstaff will have you thrown out like a beggar. Come on,  _ cyar’ika _ ,” Walon teased, always enjoying ruffling Skirata’s feathers. “I’ll find you something suitable.”

Dodging the altogether too-predictable arc of Skirata’s fist and easily gliding past the man into the bedroom beyond, Walon made for the closet, knowing that Askar had done his best to stock their rooms with formal wear on the off chance that they would need to join him at some formal event. Throwing the door open, he scanned the contents, looking for something that wouldn’t horribly offend any of the Senators they would have to rub elbows with, but also wouldn’t cause Skirata to attempt to flay him alive. Reaching for a few items, Walon ignored whatever irritated diatribe Skirata was spouting about what classist chakaare the Senators all were and began laying out several options. After a minute or so of consideration, he put away the rejected possibilities and interrupted Skirata, saying dryly, “You’ll wear these. Now, get changed and I’ll meet you in the common room. Askar is supposed to be meeting us in twenty.”

It was invariably satisfying to sweep back out of the room, leaving a furious, but speechless Skirata in his wake. Whistling for Mird to follow, Walon made his way to his own room, quickly selecting an outfit that would be both flattering and mildly threatening in equal measure. Mird curled up on the chair in the corner as Walon slipped into the clothes, checking the fit and lay of the fabric in the floor to ceiling mirror that took up most of one wall. He’d gone with blacks and dark greys: a pair of tight pants showing off the lean muscles of his legs and tucking into a tall pair of matte leather boots while the high-collared black shirt and grey embroidered vest framed his torso in a way that somehow managed to make him look even taller than his six feet and change. Over his shoulder, Walon slipped on a short cloak of partially transparent, silky black fabric that fastened with a silver and sapphire clasp, bringing together the entire ensemble quite elegantly, if he did say so himself. After changing his usual steel studs for some more elegant silver hoops, Walon completed the look by slipping a discreet vibroblade into each of his boots and one up his sleeve. Theoretically, security at the party would take them, but Walon never felt fully dressed without at least a few weapons on his person.

Making one last check to make sure he looked presentable, Walon stepped back out into the common room, calling back an order for Mird to stay. Skirata had not emerged yet, so Walon draped himself across one of the sleek black and silver chairs, idly flipping one of his smaller vibroblades in one hand. At the sound of Skirata’s door opening, Walon looked up, wolfish grin spreading across his face as the other Mando walked into the room with a mild look of discomfort. The clothes Walon had picked for Skirata couldn’t have differed more from his own: loose pants made of a light-weight form of armorweave that had been dyed an unobtrusive brown, cream colored shirt with golden accents at the collar and wrist, and a sleeveless tunic made of that same armorweave only in a sandy gold shade, reminiscent of Skirata’s beskar. The clasps were all of polished brass matching the fastenings on the brown leather belt and boots. Altogether, it was a look that suited Skirata’s straightforwardness and paid homage to his simple style. Not to mention, showing off all Skirata’s best assets, emphasis on  _ ass _ . Eyes raking over Skirata and lingering on the way the sleeves were pulled taut across his biceps, Walon grinned, rising to his feet and making his way into Skirata’s personal space.

“You clean up well, Skirata,” he all but purred, reaching into a pocket to pull one last addition to Skirata’s outfit. Slowly, almost sensually, Walon fixed the simple golden studs into Skirata’s rarely used lobe piercings, the remnants of a dare between the two of them years before. “There. All set.”

Skirata met his gaze then, face flushed but expression fixedly irritated. “You’re an insufferable shabuir, Vau.”

“Aw, but you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“I wouldn’t have you at all,” Skirata muttered, just as a knock came at the door to their rooms. Taking the opportunity to extract himself from the situation, Skirata moved past Walon to answer the door. A moment later, Askar stepped inside, dressed in a slightly more formal version of his usual Senate attire and a wide, if not tired, smile on his face.

“Ah, I see you two are ready. Shall we be off?”

Walon smirked, moving past Skirata and casually coping a feel of his ass on the way. “After you, sir.”

\--

Kal would prefer a barrage of blaster fire to small talk any day. As soon as Askar had led them into the room, it had been non-stop; a stream of false smiles and pleasantries dripping with poison. Unsurprisingly, Askar navigated the conversations with graceful ease, but it was the way in which Vau had seemed to become an entirely different person, bantering lightly with the various senators and aides, that had shocked and disturbed Kal the most. He had always known Vau was a silver-tongued chakaar, but the way he slipped into the role of pretentious politician so easily was stomach turning.

About an hour into the party, Askar had softly asked if Vau would mind trying to get the senator from Chandrila to  _ elaborate _ on some piece of legislation his faction was attempting to push through. Kal had silently thanked the older man for not designating  _ him _ with the responsibility, but now, he was regretting it whole-heartedly. From his place at Askar’s side, Kal watched with steadily rising fury as Vau chatted with another group of politicians across the room. What seemed to have begun as a polite conversation now appeared to have shifted into something altogether inappropriate. As he watched, the senator Vau was supposed to be extracting information from had slowly gotten closer, briefly touching Vau’s shoulder here, or brushing his hand casually there. In the last five minutes alone, Kal had counted no less than ten “accidental” touches to Vau’s arms and back. It was taking all of Kal’s restraint not to march over there and express to the senator how inappropriate his behavior was through some tactically applied punches.

Kal’s relative calm was completely shattered, however, when he watched as the senator’s hand, which had been lightly stroking Vau’s mid-back, drifted steadily lower and copped a nice, full feel of Vau’s ass.  _ That’s IT! That kriffing shabuir is going to GET IT! _

A tight grip on Kal’s forearm stopped him in his tracks, and he looked down to see Askar frowning at him and subtly shaking his head. “Vau can take care of himself, Kal. Let it go.”

“Did you just see--”

“Let Vau handle it.”

Displeased, but knowing an order when he heard it, Kal settled for simply staring daggers at the senator from across the room. Vau, for his part, seemed to be ignoring the touches, his expression terrifyingly pleasant and almost coy as he chatted animatedly with the senator. It was sickening, and Kal felt something cold and unpleasant twist low in his gut as the party continued to drag on.

By the end of the night, Kal had had to force himself to focus on something else, no longer able to stomach the sight of Vau allowing, even welcoming, that vile man to molest him so openly. When Askar finally begged his leave, Kal was expecting them to go and collect Vau, but Askar simply guided Kal back toward their speeder. Concerned, Kal asked, “What about Vau?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine.”

“You’re just going to-- to  _ leave _ him? With that… that…”

“Kal,” Askar’s voice was soft, his expression earnest as he rested a hand on Kal’s trembling arm. “You need to trust that Vau knows what he’s doing. I don’t want to cause a scene that might put Vau at risk, and if you go barging in there after him, making accusations, there could be serious consequences.”

Fury roiling in his stomach, Kal fought to school his expression, glaring at Askar as he pulled away angrily. “You put him in this situation. You knew this would happen.”

“It was a possibility,” Askar conceded, looking neither happy nor apologetic. “But I trust Vau to have control of the situation and make the right choices. He’s an incredibly skilled young man and he grew up learning how to maneuver in a world of politics like this. If he needs us, he’ll contact us. You have to trust him, Kal.”

_ That’s just it, isn’t it?  _ Kal thought, glaring out at the endless sprawl of Coruscant.  _ I  _ do _ trust him. With my life and more. So why does this bother me so much? _ “Fine,” Kal spat, making for their speeder with renewed purpose. “But I’m going after him if he doesn’t check in by tomorrow morning.”

\--

Kal did not sleep well, which was no surprise, so when the soft sound of footsteps filtered into his room early in the morning, he was up and alert in a matter of moments. Blaster in hand, he slid out of bed and crept towards the door into the common area. Leading with the blaster, Kal swept into the room, pulling up suddenly as something whistled through the air and thudded into the wall by his head.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Rising from his crouch and glaring, Kal hissed, “Vau, what the kriff do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to go to bed.”

Vau looked bedraggled, his hair curling just slightly in front of those damned golden eyes and clothes rumpled. Kal’s breath caught, stomach knotting uncomfortably, as he made a note of Vau’s appearance. Trying desperately to keep the anger out of his voice, Kal said tightly, “Oh? Didn’t get much sleep at the senator’s?”

Eyebrow raising, Vau considered Kal for a long moment, gaze as unnerving and unreadable as usual and leaving Kal on edge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Skirata.”

“Oh please. He practically had his hands down your pants all night. I’m not  _ blind _ , Vau.”

The accusation didn’t get the reaction Kal was looking for, however, as Vau just straightened slightly before stalking across the darkened room. He didn’t stop, not until he had crowded Kal up against the wall beside Kal’s door, lanky frame allowing him to loom over Kal in a way that made Kal’s temper flare.  _ This shabuir… _ Arm braced above Kal’s head, Vau leaned in until their noses were almost touching before he murmured, “Were you  _ worried _ , Kal’ika? Or were you…” Vau leaned in further, lips brushing the curve of Kal’s ear as he purred, “ _ jealous _ ?”

Something roiling and angry seethed within Kal’s chest, and underneath it all some feeling he couldn’t quite place. Confused and angry, Kal snarled, planting his hands firmly on Vau’s chest and shoving him away. In the darkness, Vau’s golden eyes seemed to glow, just as cold as his knowing smile. And all at once, Kal felt his rage cooling, eyes narrowing in a sharp glare as he lowered his fists. Turning his back on Vau, he walked purposefully back to his room, calling, “Go to bed, Vau.”

\--

The sound of Skirata’s door closing rang hollowly in Walon’s ears.

_ What…? _

Walon was fairly certain he could count on less than one hand the number of times Kal Skirata had backed down from a fight. This reaction… it wasn’t at all what Walon had expected. He’d been ready for, anticipating and even  _ craving _ , Skirata’s anger. There was something enticing about the other man’s fury, the way he gave himself over to it so wholly and didn’t shy away from expressing it with fists and knives rather than words. Walon would almost say he was addicted to it. So when Skirata’s anger, usually fiery and fierce, surfaced cold and biting, Walon was at a loss as to how he should react.

In a daze, he turned back towards his room, forgetting the vibroblade lodged in Skirata’s doorframe. Closing the door, Walon mechanically stripped off his rumpled party clothes, tossing them in an artless heap in the corner and making an automatic series of low whistles to wake Mird. The strill, curled up in a nest of Walon’s dirty laundry, poked its head out almost immediately, dark eyes glittering in the low morning light. As Walon flopped onto the bed, Mird leaped up to join him, sprawling across his chest like an awkward, drooly blanket, and began making a calming rumbling noise deep in its chest.

When he’d walked into their shared apartment, Walon had been exhausted, but now his mind was restless. Aimlessly scratching at Mird’s head, he reviewed the events of the previous night, trying to think of anything that might have caused Skirata to react the way he had. Walon had shmoozed the politicians well enough to make even his worthless father proud, and when Askar had given him his mission, he’d more than effectively manipulated the handsy senator into taking Walon back to his apartment. Unfortunate for the Senator, really, since he’d likely never be able to use the fingers of his left hand effectively ever again. Walon would feel bad about it, but he’d gotten the information they needed, collected enough damning evidence of embezzlement, and rather politely filed a report with the Treasury Bureau. All that, only to have Skirata think he was just fucking around? Not that he  _ wouldn’t _ have been fucking around if he had the option, but Walon was a Mando just as much as Skirata was, and he’d die before he saw a mission done improperly.

Still, there had been a moment, when he’d caught Skirata watching him and the senator from across the room, when Walon had felt a little thrill of excitement at the fire in those blue-green eyes. He’d  _ wanted _ , and was almost ready to cut his losses to go chase Skirata down and claim that beautiful fury just waiting to let loose. Maybe that was the cause of this strange hollow feeling in his chest, Walon thought, rolling over and shuffling Mird around until he could pull the covers up over himself while the strill curled up against his back. Closing his eyes, Walon let himself drift off to idle thoughts of gold and blue. Whatever Skirata’s problem was, he’d deal with it in the morning.


End file.
